


services rendered to the nation

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: 2020 US Presidential Election, 2020 let's fuckin go, Oral Sex, Other, SLIGHTLY DUBCON????, but if you're sincerely into it more power to you, this is a joke please feel free to make fun of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27429187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Pennsylvania--and the Presidency--have just been called for Biden. You find Gritty, and show him just how grateful you are.
Relationships: Gritty (Hockey RPF)/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 101
Collections: Anonymous





	services rendered to the nation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this image](https://images.app.goo.gl/GjUMkYQqTef79MQw8) of Gritty, which, it was pointed out to me, looks as though someone might be under the flag giving him a blowjob.

The Wells Fargo Center is quiet. A single, flickering lightbulb reflects off the ice as you step out of the locker room, shivering slightly from the cold. 

“Hello?”

“I’m here.” His voice echoes around you, enveloping and almost tender. “You asked me to come, and I’m here.”

“Yes,” you say. “I—thank you.”

He steps forward, finally, into the light, and you see him. So orange your eyes almost burn _(but the good orange, not like—well, we won’t speak of him)._ His eyes, so wide, bulbous and yearning.

“They called Pennsylvania,” you say. “An hour ago. For Biden. It’s over.”

His bulk sags in relief. “I’d hoped—but it’s good to hear. For certain.”

“I know what you did,” you say, stepping closer. “How you fought. For all of us.”

The orange deepens into a blush. “You know it’s my duty. Defending democracy. Upholding righteousness. Ever since 2018, I’ve been training for this. I’m only glad it came to pass. All those sleepless nights…”

“You can rest now,” you say. “Until you’re needed again. Until the city needs you again.”

“Yes,” he rasps. “Yes.”

You place a hand on his arm, your fingers ghosting lightly over the fur. “I didn’t just come here to tell you that, you know.”

He looks down at you. Your eyes meet, and his wobble in what passes for a blink. “Didn’t you?”

You gesture to the bleachers. “Sit down.”

He sits, a lumbering motion not without its own awkward grace. 

You kneel in front of him, and his eyes widen. “What are you—”

“Shhh,” you say. “Let me thank you. On behalf of all Americans.”

You slip a hand down the waistband of his shorts and feel the hard, furry rod beneath. 

He inhales sharply, and you wrap your hand around the length of him, stroking gently up and down. His breathing’s gone ragged now, and he tugs at the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down around his hips and granting you free access to the entire titian spread, a hirsute feast. A few more strokes, and you remove your hand, lowering your head towards him instead. As you lick down his stomach, tongue laving at his protruding navel, his hand reaches for the top of your head, and furry fingers tangle in your hair.

"Wait," he whispers. 

You look up. 

"You don't have to do this," he says, voice hoarse. "it was for democracy. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

You smile. "That's _why_ i want to do this. Because that’s who you are." 

The fingers tighten in your hair as you bend down again and take him into your mouth. It’s a bit like eating an unpeeled kiwifruit, the fuzz rubbing not unpleasantly against your tongue, clinging slightly to the moistness of your lips.

You can hear him moaning as you suck, a keening, primal noise, and it only drives you to move faster, faster, faster, until—

He comes with a small cry, and you taste birch beer in your mouth, fizzy and sweet. You pull your mouth off and swallow down.

You stand up, and he pulls his shorts back up, looking a bit dazed.

“Thank you,” he says, breathlessly. 

You shake your head. “No. Thank _you.”_

You turn away, and walk down the bleachers and out of the arena, raising a hand to your mouth. Some of his fur has stuck to your lips, glued on by his come, and you wipe it off, rubbing it between two fingers to get the feel of it off.

It’s a little bit gritty.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] services rendered to the nation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440713) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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